Rob has a point. I look around the room. It feels like everything’s changed. Ifthisisn’t an issue anymore…maybe those other issues will also have a way of working out.
“Sorry,” I say, realizing I haven’t said anything for several seconds. “I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around this. I was so convinced you’d have a problem with it. That’s why we…” I stop myself.
“Why you what?” Rob asks.
“Never mind.”
“It’s okay, Chloe. Austin told me.”
Oh my God. Austin told Rob about what we did over Thanksgiving? Did he also tell him about visiting me over the weekend? About ussleepingtogether?
“He told you what, exactly?” I ask cautiously.
“That you two have been talking.”
I try to hide my sigh. “Right.”
“And I know he was visiting you this weekend. You don’t have to pretend he wasn’t.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Look, I really don’t want to know any details. But…you like him, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, quietly. “I do.”
“Then stop making up excuses, Chloe. If you want to be with him, be with him.”
I’m overwhelmed for a second. Then I can’t help but laugh. I feel a little trembly with giddiness.
“I have to go, Rob,” I say. “Thanks for the talk.”
“Sure thing, sis.”
I hang up with Rob. I let out a happy scream into my hands. I take a breath and tap the screen of my phone again and compose a text to Austin:
Hey! Can we talk?
Several minutes—minutes that feel like hours—go by. Austin doesn’t write back.
Maybe he’s in a meeting?
Then something occurs to me. Rob said that Austin told him about visiting me. So it would be safe to assume that Rob told Austin about him and Denise setting us up.
It’s weird that Austin didn’t get in touch with me after that, right?
Shit. I wonder if Austin didn’t have the same reaction as me. Maybe he’s ignoring me. Maybe he’s a fucking weirdo and only liked me because it was forbidden and he wasn’t supposed to have feelings about me. Maybe…
I sink down into my couch and dip my head into my hands.
Stop it, Chloe, I tell myself.You’re overreacting. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.
I consider calling Rob back and asking him if Austin is busy with something at work right now. But it feels wrong. It will feel like I’m spying on Austin.
What am I supposed to do?
I’m about to send Austin another text but decide to call him instead. His phone rings. And rings. Then goes to voicemail.
“Fuck,” I say, throwing my phone on the couch beside me. I dig my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath in and let it out.
